


Almost There

by moriartyshouldseemeinacrown



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorder, Gen, Mycroft Has An Eating Disorder, sad mycroft, sherlock is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriartyshouldseemeinacrown/pseuds/moriartyshouldseemeinacrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"By the time Mycroft is twenty-seven and Sherlock has just turned twenty, he is admitted to a hospital. Not because anyone else realized his eating habits, but because he hasn't eaten in three days and collapsed as he was doing paperwork."</p><p>Mycroft Holmes has an eating disorder, his brother Sherlock gives absolutely no shits and John is mildly concerned.</p><p>UPDATE: This won't be continued, sorry, I never actually had a plot planned out and just winged it and, weirdly, that didn't really work out. Sorry y'all</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello, just something I came up with while at school. My first eating disorder fanfic wowwie, I hope I get everything right. Basically, if anyone likes this I can continue it, but I can also leave it off at just one part short and sweet.

By the time Mycroft is twenty-seven and Sherlock has just turned twenty, he is admitted to a hospital. Not because anyone else realized his eating habits, but because he hasn't eaten in three days and collapsed as he was doing paperwork. 

Sherlock doesn't come to visit or make any contact whatsoever, keeping up the "I hate you" vibe towards his brother.

The doctors obviously notice his weight (he's almost thin enough, almost) (he needs to eat more, he's underweight) (he's so close to being thin) (his bones are visible) and keep him until he starts to put on more weight and seem healthy again. He escapes as soon as he can and starts his diet again. So he loses all the weight and no one pays attention. 

Suddenly he's back in Sherlock's life around the time he gangs up with Lestrade to solve cases (Mycroft obviously kidnaps Lestrade to ask of his intentions toward Sherlock and tries to bribe him to give up information, Lestrade agrees. Sherlock later throws a tantrum and calls Mycroft for the first time in years.) (When Sherlock calls it's only to insult Mycroft with the ever present cries of "fat" and "useless" running around his mind, Sherlock's "Just die already!" is a bit too much and Mycroft takes the next day off to have a breakdown alone in his flat.)

Mycroft keeps watch of Sherlock over the next few years and sometime before John Watson shows up, Sherlock deletes everything he knows about Mycroft's eating disorder. Every insult he's thrown, every time he's ignored the sounds of vomiting from his brother's bathroom as a child, gone. Mycroft felt sick.

Sherlock filled that empty hate space with excuses toward his brother, things like petty arguments between children that he had let rot and fester until they escaped to a single emotion; loathing. He loathed Mycroft, John could never understand, Lestrade could never understand, Mycroft would never understand. It was all Mycroft's fault, Sherlock;s aloneness. Mycroft must have done something and somehow forced Sherlock to delete it. This was what Sherlock thought, at least. So his hate never left Mycroft, only got redirected from his odd eating habits to every other bit of his life. 

It had been two months since the Holmes brothers had seen each other and Mycroft decided to stop by, not bothering to check whether Sherlock would be there at all. So he was surprised when Doctor John Watson opened the door and invited him in for tea. He accepted, but didn't drink a drop.

"You haven't taken a single sip of your tea," John pointed out and Mycroft set the mug down on the coffee table. "Why?" 

"Simply not thirsty," Mycroft forced a smile, hoping John wasn't as clever or caring as his brother seemed to think.

"In fact, I don't think I've seen you eat food ever in the time I've known you."

"Well, you haven't known me for very long, Doctor Watson." Mycroft glanced down at his watch. "And I've got to go, excuse me." He stood quickly and the room swayed, damn. When had he last eaten? Yesterday morning he'd had a cup of tea, not something that can hold someone over for two days. He stumbled and John lept to his feet, guiding Mycroft to sit back down.

"Hey, you okay?" John looked in his eyes, hands on his shoulders and a concerned expression on his face. 

"Yes, just got a bit dizzy is all. I really must be off, thought. Good day, Doctor Watson." Mycroft got to his feet again and tried not to stumble down the stairs. He almost ran into his car and gasped his home address, no way he was going back to the Diogenes today. If John got too worried he would show up and Mycroft would rather not deal with that. So he went home, said goodbye to the driver and stripped down to fall asleep. Ignoring the full-length mirror calling him out he slipped under his bed sheets and turned out the light, he could finish his paperwork tomorrow.


	2. Sherlock's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John forces Mycroft to go to Sherlock's birthday gathering and gets a bit more worried about him, Sherlock still doesn't give a shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone wanted me to continue uwu and I decided to write this v quickly (even though I'm siccck) oh and its a bit shorter than the last one, sorrY

John invites Mycroft to Sherlock's thirty-first birthday, no presents, there will be cake. He decides not to go, Sherlock doesn't want him there anyway. So when John shows up thirty minutes before the party is due to begin he is taken off guard and answers the door in his pajamas and a dressing gown. 

"Why aren't you dressed? Didn't you get the invite?" John asks, letting himself in to Mycroft's home by pushing past him gently. He looks around and notes how sparse it is, how unlivedin it looks. 

"Yes, but I wasn't planning on attending." Mycroft pulled his dressing gown tighter around him, his flat was normally cold but when John had come in he seemed to invite a rush of cool air. He thought of how to politely remove John from his living area when the man found his room and rifled through his closet. 

"Look, I know you and Sherlock don't get on very well, that's how it is with siblings, but I think it'd be nice if you came. And it's no formal affair, so if you've got jeans that would be perfect." 

"I'd enjoy it if you did not go through my things, Doctor Watson." Mycroft strode over and closed the wardrobe doors, just missing John's hands. "Especially since I have not invited you here at all." John had the decency to look a bit guilty. "I will not be attending this party no matter what you do."

And yet, twenty minutes later, John and Mycroft were on their way to Baker Street. John smiling quite smugly and Mycroft sporting a grimace. 

"John, you're back, good. I need you to-oh why's he here?" Sherlock stood at the top of the stairs as his brother and John came through the door. "He'll eat all the cake."

"Actually, I've already eaten, brother-mine." Mycroft's stomach rolled and he fought the urge to run and hide at the familiar words. 

"Mm, no you haven't. Anyway as I was saying John-" and Mycroft tuned out the rest as John glanced over to him, he could almost see the metaphorical cogs turning in this doctor's brain.  
He excused himself and made his way over to the sofa so he could at least sit. Sherlock's Detective Inspector greeted him and offered a beer, but Mycroft declined politely. 

Mycroft sat on the sofa for another half hour chatting about nothing much with Mrs. Hudson and trying to ignore the glances John sent him. He decided to wait just twenty more minutes before excusing himself to make it look accidental at the very least. So he exchanged a few words with DI Lestrade and Molly before saying he had an urgent matter to attend to (Sherlock butted in with a "No you don't.") and he left prompty. 

Later he was dressed more comfortably in his three piece suit and back in the office, the party was over at 221B and John trapped Sherlock in conversation.

"Did you notice something off about Mycroft?" He asked as he cleaned cake from plates and looked over at Sherlock who laid strewn on the sofa. 

"I noticed he was even more insufferable than the last time I saw him." John snorted and told Sherlock he was serious. "No, John, I didn't. But I'm assuming you did since you stared at him almost the whole time he was here."

"I did not stare at him," John started to dry the plates off and put them up. "And you said he didn't eat when he said he had. That's odd."

"He is a Holmes, and Holmes' are odd. New diet I would say, call him if you really care." Sherlock turned over to let John face his back and John rolled his eyes before retreating upstairs to call Mycroft. When Mycroft didn't answer the phone John supposed he was just busy, he did have a government job after all. So he put his phone on his bedside table and picked up a book he'd been working on. 

Downstairs Sherlock wondered briefly if the exchange of words today could be evidence for something? But he shook the idea off quickly, Mycroft had more control than that.

At the Diogenes Mycroft let his phone ring before turning it off and continuing to work until dawn lit his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a liTTLE SHIT wow okay
> 
> tell me what you think! Comment, kudos, all that good stuff uwu
> 
> I feel like my writing style is never consistent...


	3. (fat fat fat fat FAT FAT)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of background story on the Holmes brothers and Sherlock realizing something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could make a million excuses for not having this sooner but im gonna go with school stress and sad feelings, sorry guys!!

Mycroft's eating disorder didn't develop until he was 17 and Sherlock was 10. He went from the occasional skipped meal to skipping breakfast, then breakfast and lunch (he had to eat dinner, family dinners were important, had to show his parents nothing was wrong)(not like they suspected something anyway). This was when Sherlock progressed from calling his older brother "My," instead calling him "fat."

 

Sherlock's behavior had meant to be a mask to hide his disappointment that Mycroft would leave for University soon. But it changed from a not often murmured insult to his number one nickname. Once Mycroft started throwing up his dinner, Sherlock resented him fully. He whispered encouragement through the crack in the bathroom door (you can do it fatty, just a few more pounds, why do you eat anymore, you're nothing nothing nothing). 

 

Mycroft left for University with newly fitted suits and a growing eating disorder. With his own room and adjoining bathroom it was easy to purge whenever he needed to. He could account skipping meals to studying busily and simply forgetting to eat. Sherlock sent him letters full of nothing insults (fat fat fat fat FAT FAT) repeated over and over. Mycroft kept the letters for motivation. 

 

Sherlock hadn't remembered what he deleted, not in the tells Mycroft let slip and not in the few memories of his older brother But when John expressed concern for Mycroft he started to look harder for an answer, even if only to appease John. 

 

Sherlock laid on the couch and put his hands together. Mycroft. He had lost weight recently. His hair was thinner. He doesn't like to be reminded of his diet, makes him anxious. But what was it about his brother that worried John? Was is that he didn't stay at the party, was it that he'd refused cake, was it that he'd lied about eating? Lied about eating. John mentioned something about Mycroft refusing tea and stumbling out the door. Stumbling, dizzy, light headed, sick?

 

John walked out of the kitchen at that moment and called Sherlock over, "Come eat lunch, you're of no value to anyone, yes including yourself, when you're starving." Starving. No food, dizzy, low blood sugar, weak heart, thinning hair, lower body temperature. Dizzy, no food, thinning hair.

 

Sherlock shot up like lighting, "Mycroft."

 

"What?"

 

"Mycroft. You were worried about him, weren't you? I can't imagine why-actually  now I can. He's starving himself."

 

_"What?"_

 

"I'm going to get dressed. Then I'm going to visit him. Don't come with me, and don't give me that face! I know you're a doctor, you care, blah blah blah, but there's something I'm missing." Sherlock bounded off to his room and changed quickly, grabbing his coat and scarf before walking out the door. He didn't bother textingMycroft that he was coming, his minions would warn him anyway. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know when i'll be updating next, i'm sort of just writing this up as it goes ahh sorry, you're totally allowed to yell at me and hate me u.u
> 
> also sorry my writing style changes like all the time?? at least i feel like it does?? ahhh anyway, hope you enjoyed it
> 
> and also again i keep making the chapters shorter and shorter im so sorry omfg ;-;

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment what you think, if I should continue or not and the such. Kudos if you like it :) thanks


End file.
